The Measure of a Man
by vjs2259
Summary: Five times John Sheridan had a drink, and one time he didn't. To be posted in 6 parts. Vignettes from Sheridan's life from the Academy to the Alliance.
1. Elizabeth Lochley

**Part 1: Elizabeth Lochley**

"If a man does not make new acquaintance as he advances through life, he will soon find himself left alone. A man, Sir, should keep his friendship in constant repair."

_- Samuel Johnson (1709 - 1784) British lexicographer. _

_"_First you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you."_ —F. Scott Fitzgerald (1896-1940)._

* * *

The dorm room was crowded with cadets, first year to third year, male and female, all clad in EarthForce uniforms. It was like a sea of grey, surging in from the darkened entryway and mostly heading for the brightly lit kitchen area where the food and drinks were laid out.

John Sheridan was in the middle of the crowd, smiling broadly, head tilted in attention as he listened to one of his host's slightly off-color jokes. His broad hand grasped a heavy glass with an inch or two of brown liquid at the bottom. Tony Scarpelli finished with a flourish, "...and that's what a Centauri uses a hair net for!" John guffawed loudly, and clapped his friend on the back. Privately he wondered if Tony had ever even met a Centauri. Downing the not-too-bad whiskey he'd chosen from Tony's limited bar supplies, he thought back to the few times he'd visited Centauri Prime when he was a kid. He remembered them as a fussy people, with a dislike for boisterous children and a fondness for boisterous parties. They'd probably like this one in fact.

A buzz was coming from the living room, and John swivelled his head to see what was happening. An attractive second year cadet was striding across the room, greeting everyone with a confident smile. He turned to see Tony watching him closely.

"You've never met Lochley?" Tony asked, "She's your doppelganger, head of Red Squadron, first in all her classes; just like you." He grabbed John's arm, pulling him along, "Come on, I'll introduce you to her."

John followed Tony, protesting only slightly. Elizabeth Lochley was an attractive woman. He'd heard of her, of course, but never shared a class with her, never met her. After the first year at the Academy, the class was divided into two groups, training separately, preparing for the third year spent in direct competition. Lochley was in Blue Squadron.

"Hey, Elizabeth, there's someone I want you to meet!" Tony pushed John forward in front of Lochley. The young woman looked him up and down and extended her hand.

"John Sheridan, I presume?" Elizabeth gripped his hand firmly and smiled.

John grinned back at her, and returned her grip with gusto. He gestured with the glass in his other hand and asked, "Can I get you a drink?"

"I don't drink," Elizabeth replied.

Her smile didn't waver, but John felt a strange coolness in the air, and set his own glass down. "I guess I've had enough for now myself." He had been drinking steadily for over an hour, and felt a warm glow expanding outwards from himself to encompass the entire room. Everyone here was a friend of his, or about to be, it seemed to him.

Tony, who had drunk a good deal more than John, announced happily, "We've got both squad leaders here, why wait till next year? Let's see what they've got now!"

Both John and Elizabeth turned identical skeptical looks at their host. Elizabeth spoke first, "What did you have in mind?"

Tony put one arm around each of their shoulders, "I don't know...what about a test? We could set you some jumpgate vector problems, or ask you to translate Dilgar war challenges into Earth standard!"

Elizabeth, without looking directly at John, said carefully, "I don't think so. It might not be a level playing field at this point."

John flushed in anger, but some part of his brain acknowledged that it wasn't firing on all jets at this point, and he bit back his initial retort. She played fair; he liked that. His good humor reasserted itself, and he replied, "It's a party, Tony, not a contest. Let's drop it and get back to having some fun."

Tony hooted in laughter, "You're afraid of her, Johnny! I never thought I'd see John Sheridan back away from a challenge!"

Elizabeth shook free of Tony's drunken embrace and moved slightly away from him. "No challenge here, just a party. We're here for a good time. At least that's why I came."

Tony was still chortling softly, and holding on to John's shoulder, when an idea seemed to hit him. "I know! Something simple...how about arm-wrestling?"

John shook his head, but to his surprise, Elizabeth nodded. She said, "Why not? " She leaned towards John and whispered, "You know Tony won't let this go. Let's do it, and get it over with."

"All right," John agreed, a slightly fatuous smile returning to his face. He liked Elizabeth Lochley; she was smart, summing up the situation and making quick decisions. It was going to be fun going up against her next year. The others rapidly gathered around them as they sat down across each other at the kitchen table. Placing their elbows on the table, they grasped each other's hand in a tight grip.

Tony, after pouring himself another stiff drink, announced, "On the count of three...one, two, three, go!"

John pushed hard, pressing his elbow firmly against the scuffed stained surface of the table. To his intense surprise, he was met with an equally firm response. Shifting his weight slightly forward, he pushed harder, but met the same resistance. Elizabeth's face was unemotional, as she slowly began to pressure his hand down towards the table. After a few more minutes of jockeying for position, John realized he was going to lose this one. He fought on, determined not to make it easy for her, but eventually the back of his hand touched the table. The crowd roared, and Elizabeth looked briefly, intensely happy, but then her face closed down, and she reverted back to her normal calm aura of self-possession. John immediately took hold of her hand again, this time to shake it firmly. "Good job," he said and was pleased to get another glimpse of brilliant fire light up her eyes. He thought it would be very nice to see that fire up close, and even better to be the cause of the spark.

The party surged away again, groups breaking away and coalescing in other rooms. John sighed as the laughter punctuated the music. Rubbing his temples, he looked at Elizabeth, who was standing in the center of the kitchen, chatting casually with another cadet. When the other woman left to pick up a drink, he stepped closer to Elizabeth.

"I'm about done here," he confessed. "Got a bit of a headache." Clearing his throat, he asked, "You want to go somewhere? Get a drink?" When she started to shake her head, he added quickly, "Coffee, I mean." He thought about it a minute, then discarded the notion of asking her back to his room. "It's past curfew, we'd have to make it the mess hall. They're open till one."

Elizabeth looked back at him steadily, as if appraising his motivations, and maybe her own. "I'd like that."

John gestured towards the door. "Great! Let's go." Privately he spend a moment wondering what he was getting into; the rules on cadet fraternization were quite clear. Then his effusive mood returned, and brought a buoyant smile to his lips. There was no harm in having a quiet talk with a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman, even if she was a fellow cadet. It was only coffee, after all. He was confident that he could handle anything that came of it. Tonight he could handle anything at all.


	2. Jack Maynard

**Part 2: Jack Maynard**

"In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit." _~Albert Schweitzer _

"Wine gives a man nothing... it only puts in motion what had been locked up in frost."_ ~Samuel Johnson _

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* * *

_

Lt. John Sheridan swiveled the command chair from one side to the other and back again. He didn't think he'd ever get tired of the view. The stars lay in front of him like a sparkling carpet. Earth was receding in the viewport as they accelerated towards Mars. He leaned back and put his feet up on the control panel. It was a small control room, the heart of the military shuttle, and everything was jammed in close together.

A guttural sound behind him brought his feet crashing back to the floor. Turning in the chair, he saw Ensign Kim standing at taut attention, his Adam's apple jerking up and down his throat in nervous agitation. "Yes, Ensign?" he asked, trying to establish an appropriate sense of military decorum.

"Captain Maynard would like to see you, Lieutenant, in his quarters." Kim relaxed slightly, now that his mission was accomplished. "I'll take over watching the board. Not much action tonight in any case."

"All right, Ensign. The board is yours." John received Kim's salute, and then left the room in a bit of a hurry. It was a small crew, and everyone worked closely together, but he hadn't been alone with the Captain since he'd come on board the _Longfellow__. _It was his first assignment, and even though it wasn't terribly prestigious, he was pleased just to be out in space. He spent his night watches wondering what it would be like when he had his own command, traveling outside the home system, cruising the big jump gates out into the deep. His boot heels rang on the steel floors of the narrow corridors, lit by spots lining the walls along the floor and also at eye-level. Pausing outside Captain Maynard's quarters, he checked his uniform, brushing away imagined dust. Straightening his shoulders, he knocked firmly on the metal door, the clang echoing in the empty hallway.

"Come on in," responded a gruff voice from inside. John opened the door, and saw Captain Maynard with his back to the door, bent over a low table. A tinkle of glass and a glug of liquid hit John's ears, and Jack Maynard turned around, two large glasses of whiskey in his hands.

"Sit down, John," said Jack. "Take a load off."

John sat on the first chair he saw, a low ottoman covered with a colorful coarse blanket of some kind. Taking the glass, he waited until Jack took a swig, then took a cautious sip himself.

Jack laughed, a deep guffaw that started somewhere around his knees and worked its way up and out. "Good God, man! It's whiskey, not medicine. Though Lord knows I've used it to heal many an injury. It's just us officers in here. Kim's perfectly capable of piloting us all the way down to Marsport itself, although that's not the plan. I had an idea you'd like to take her in."

John nodded and took another drink. "I would, sir."

Shaking his head, Jack said, "It's Jack in here. This isn't exactly the hallowed halls of the Academy, or EarthForce headquarters in Geneva." He sat on the edge of the standard issue cot, leaned back against a black and white spotted bolster, and crossed his legs in front of him, balancing his glass on his stomach. John tried not to stare at the totally non-standard footwear that adorned the Captain's feet. He'd heard the rumours about Jack Maynard, that he was a hotshot pilot, youngest cadet to make Captain since the Dilgar War. John had no idea what someone with that record was doing on the Moon-Mars run.

"I suppose you're wondering why I'm doing the milk run," asked Jack. "Or maybe you're just admiring my boots." He stuck out one leg, turning the ornately decorated leather around in the light. "Gift from a friend. She'll make Admiral someday, I'm thinking." He pulled the boot off for a moment, shaking some some particle free, letting it drop onto the floor. "I don't take them off during a flight. For luck."

John took another drink, not quite knowing where to look, and trying hard not breathe. He cleared his throat and said, "I'll admit to some curiosity. Everyone thought you were in line for a destroyer, then we heard you'd been assigned in-system..." His voice tailled off, and he turned the glass around and around in his hand.

Jack smiled broadly, "Thought it was a punishment, didn't you? Academy's still full of gossips, just like when I was there. Damn rumour mill." He sat up, leaned forward and said confidentially, "I'm waiting for something better." He reached forward, pulling the bottle down and filling both their glasses up again. "They're building something brand new, a big ship, the biggest ever. It's meant to go way out, all the way out to the Rim. Explorer class, and I'm getting the first one." He leaned back and took another drink. "Meanwhile, I asked for this berth. I leave the system, and sure as shooting, someone'll take my place in line. So I go back and forth, easy little trips, do some training, vet the newbies for the brass, and wait for my ship."

John's eyes sparkled. "You're a lucky man, sir...I mean, Jack. I'd give anything to get out there." Then, a different though crowded out the vision of deep space. "Are you...am I being vetted?"

"Sure," replied Jack smoothly. "With your scores and qualifications, why else would you pull this assignment?"

John stiffened at the words. Taking a deep pull at the whiskey, he asked, "So why am I here?"

"There were some rumours," Jack shook his head, "I know, more rumours! But somebody high up heard something about a woman..."

Eyes smoldering, John said tightly, "I don't want to talk about it." His head was spinning; Maynard's whiskey was strong stuff. " And it's no one's business but hers and mine in any case."

"That's noble, that is," said Jack thoughtfully, then he broke into a wide grin. "I like a man who doesn't kiss and tell." He poked John in the shoulder. "Lochley's a good-looking woman, though. Smart, too. Hate to see her career stymied. Or yours for that matter."

John glared at his superior. "What happened, assuming something did happen, is over. Elizabeth and I are friends and fellow officers. That's the end of it."

Jack nodded, "Good. Glad to hear it. We'll not mention it again." He looked carefully at the younger man. "Hit you pretty hard, did it?"

For a moment, John let some of his inner misery show. He hated to fail at anything, and especially to fail someone he cared about. "Just wasn't meant to be, I guess."

"Better luck next time," Jack responded brusquely, but with sympathy. "Never regret loving a good woman, even if it didn't work out. Leave the hurt and take the lesson." He glanced at the chronometer. "You'll spell Kim in four hours. We'll make Mars space day after tomorrow and you'll put her in orbit. Then we'll take some well-earned leave. There's a bar I'd like to show you. It's a nice little place, goes by name of the Swamp."


	3. Anna Sheridan

**Part 3: Anna Sheridan**

"Tell me what company thou keepst, and I'll tell thee what thou art."_  
- Miguel de Cervantes (1547 - 1616) Spanish novelist. _

"Wine gives courage and makes men more apt for passion" _~Ovid _

_

* * *

_

The sound of water running in the bathroom made him smile, and John leisurely took another swig of champagne. It was the good stuff, Altairian vintage 2240, sent to their room by his father, who had obtained it through who-knew-what diplomatic subterfuge. He watched the tiny bubbles rise in the liquid, breaking in slow motion on the surface like methane bubbles on the seas of Titan. This was his second go-round at marriage, and now that the ritual was over, some anxiety was rising to the surface much like the bubbles.

"John, could you bring me a refill?" Anna's graceful hand dangled the slender flute in the gap formed by the just-open bathroom door.

Crossing the room with a bottle in one hand and his own glass in the other, John did his husbandly duty as bartender. He tried to sneak a look into the steam-filled room, but Anna pulled the door shut with a giggle. "Let me finish! This bathroom is amazing..." Her voice trailed off as she moved away from the door.

"Sure you don't need some help in there?" asked John hopefully. He rather felt he'd perfected his back-washing technique, but Anna seemed to want to prepare in private tonight. It hadn't taken him a moment to slip out of his tux and into a bathrobe, but Anna had disappeared into the immense bathroom, declaring the need for a quick shower and 'other things'. This had left John at loose ends, with little to do but reflect on the day and what it meant to him. John and Anna had been a couple for over a year, in every sense of the word, but things felt different now. Marriage changed everything. The ceremony had been an old-fashioned one, complete with cake and toasts and the traditional vows. His parents and sister had come, as well as friends and fellow officers. Anna had no family left to attend, but her co-workers had shown up in force. She was the most popular xeno-anthropologist in her branch of the Interstellar Geographic Service, as well as the best, and he was proud of both facts.

His anxiety was rapidly being washed away by memories of a long drawn-out perfect day and the very good champagne. Everything had been rushed with Elizabeth. That ceremony, as well as the relationship, had been clandestine and hurried, with the spice of the forbidden adding to the excitement of their brief marriage. Their whole time together had been like that; fast and furious, flames that shot high and then sputtered out quickly. It was different with Anna, a slow steady burn that had built and grown over months till he could no longer imagine life without her. Taking another long drink he felt his muscles continue to relax even as his anticipation mounted.

"You're a million miles away," remarked Anna, as she came out of the bathroom. Setting down her glass, she twirled around, showing off the matching gown and robe, silk and lace that flowed like water around her.

"Wow," said John appreciatively. "That's new. And very, very nice."

Anna's cheeks glowed at the praise. "The color's called 'candlelight'," she said. Looking around the room, she added laughing, "Which seems to be appropriate. My God, John, you'll have the place on fire. Imagine the reaction of the hotel staff when they respond to the alarm!"

"Most of them are electric safety candles provided by the hotel," replied John. "They even come with a remote control. Look!" he said, setting down his glass and picking up a small metal square from the mantel. He dimmed the realistic flames, then brought them back to their full soft flicker. "Now those," he said, indicating the three pillars that had been used in the ceremony and were now occupying a place of honor on the mantelpiece of the hotel's electric fireplace, "Those are real."

Anna moved over to the mantel and gently touched the ivory wax, firmly ensconced in short silver holders, chased with an antique script and scrolls of silver filigree. They had been a pre-wedding gift from John's parents, as was the matching silver picture frame that now held a picture of the two of them, printed that very day. She almost shivered at the look of pure happiness on both their faces. They had each lit their own candle, then jointly lit the central one that symbolized their union. "The candles are real, but I can't quite believe this is." She gestured around the suite, then crossed the room and slid comfortably into his arms.

"Let me see if I can convince you," said John, and drew her in close for a lingering kiss. "Mmm," he said as they broke off briefly. "Seems real enough. You even taste different tonight, Mrs. Sheridan."

"That's the champagne," laughed Anna, her brown eyes glinting in the candlelight.

"Are you sure?" asked John. "Let me check again." He couldn't keep back his smile as Anna eagerly lifted her face to his. She tasted sweet and sharp, like the wine they had both been consuming. The champagne tasted like distilled joy, especially on her lips.

Anna pulled away, but kept her arms around her new husband. "John," she said with a sudden solemn expression, "we're not going to be together like this all that often. Our careers won't allow it. Will we be able to make this work?"

"Little late to be asking now, isn't it?" John looked at her carefully. "Anna, we talked about this. As long as we make each other a priority, it will work."

She bit her lip slightly, obviously still a little worried. "Our jobs are important, not just to us, but to EarthForce, and EarthGov. We're just cogs in the machine, but everyone has to do their bit to make the machine work. Marriage requires a lot of work, too. Which comes first?"

"Earth comes first," said John firmly. "I took an oath promising that. But I made another vow today. I can't see the future, and maybe someday they'll have to be a choice..." He paused and cupped her face in his hands, thumbs gently stroking her cheekbones. "Mrs. Sheridan, I promise you this. I'll never leave you without first making sure you know how much I love you." The words caught in his throat as he saw her eyes fill with tears. "Scout's honor," he added, relieved when she laughed at the childhood phrase.

"I didn't know you were a scout," she said teasingly. "What other secrets are you hiding?"

"Space Scout Sheridan, First Class," replied John semi-pompously. Then he confessed, a bit sheepishly, "I never did make Explorer, to my father's chagrin." He broke off, gathered their glasses, and filled them, handing one to Anna. "Here's to years of mutual exploration," he said, clinking his glass against hers.

Anna took one sip and placed the flute carefully on the nightstand. Untying the ribbons that held her robe closed, she slipped it off and laid it across the foot of the bed. Then she approached John and undid his bathrobe, running her hands underneath the soft material, up to his shoulders, then letting the robe slip off his back to the floor. Running her hands across his smooth muscular chest, she said, "There's a lot to discover. We'd better not waste any time getting started."


	4. Susan Ivanova

**Part 4: Susan Ivanova**

_"_... no man is useless while he has a friend."_  
- Robert Louis Stevenson _

"I think a man ought to get drunk at least twice a year just on principle, so he won't let himself get snotty about it."_~Raymond Chandler _

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* * *

_

Io had a bustling spaceport, full of humans and aliens, some of which Captain John Sheridan couldn't even identify. He was here for an interim mission, chasing down a group of raiders that had been hitting the shipping lanes between Jupiter and Mars. EarthForce Intelligence felt they were based on Io, though not in the main colony of Galileo-town but somewhere in one of the ancillary small outposts.

His posting to the Agamemnon had just come through, but the ship, _**his**_ ship, was still on its way in-system for refitting and repair. In the meantime, he'd been sent to mop up this problem, before heading back to Earth to supervise the Aggie's re-fit. He'd been given a small, fast military police ship, equipped with two swift and destructive flyers. While studying the personnel stationed on Io that would be available for temporary assignment to him, he'd come across a familiar name. The first time he'd met Susan Ivanova hadn't been under ideal circumstances. It had been just after the war, and he'd been doing the rounds, meeting with the families of the men they'd lost on the Lexington. With Captain Stern gone, that duty had fallen to him. Ganya Ivanova had been a superb pilot, and John wasn't surprised to see that his sister was as well. And that had given him an idea.

"Lt. Ivanova. Come in," John held the door to his makeshift office open wide. Susan Ivanova crossed the threshold, back ramrod straight. She paused in front of the desk, which John had retreated behind, and gave him a crisp salute.

"Captain Sheridan. It's good to see you again." She waited at attention.

"At ease, Lieutenant." John gestured towards the chair on the other side of the desk. "Have a seat and let me tell you why you're here."

He watched her carefully while he described the mission, enjoying the light in her eyes as he offered her a temporary position as his second. "I've spoken to Major Godwin already. He has released you from your duties here. He speaks quite highly of you, thinks you're on a fast track to your own command."

Susan flushed with pleasure at the forthright praise. "I hope so. Thank you for the chance, sir."

"Let's go over our plan of action. I'm waiting on some last minute information from Earth, but I don't expect the basic line of attack to change." John pulled out a tablet computer and pulled up maps of the surrounding outposts. Susan pulled her chair around to his side of the desk and they settled down to work.

After a few hours, John sat back in his chair, stretching out his arms to either side. "Well, this shouldn't take long, a couple of days at most. We're pretty sure where they are, and we've sent out the false information that should lure them out of hiding. Tomorrow we'll take up position and wait for them to take the bait."

Susan nodded, making a few notes on her own tablet. "Do you have any other instructions?"

"Not tonight. I'm just going to put in a call to my wife, then I'll grab some dinner." John turned to the com unit, but Susan interrupted him.

"The mess is closed by now, I'm afraid. I was heading out myself...you want to join me?" Susan asked.

"Sure," John replied. "Give me a few moments to get this call through." Susan nodded and stepped outside the office to give her superior some privacy.

After several minutes, John came out into the hallway. Susan was just finishing making a call from the wall-mounted comport. She turned to John and said, "I made us reservations at the Volcano Cafe. It's a big tourist attraction, but the food's pretty good, and you can't beat the view."

As they walked down the corridor, Susan said hesitantly, "I wanted to thank you again for coming to the Academy to tell me personally about Ganya."

"It was no problem," John replied. "He was a good man, and a good pilot." He saw her finger her gold earring, as if she were nervous. Striving for a neutral topic, he asked, "How's your father?"

Susan didn't break stride. "I haven't heard from him lately." Her voice was steady but no further response was forthcoming.

"That's too bad," John replied, sensing some strong emotion held in check within the young woman. Trying to change the subject, he asked, "So why did you join EarthForce?"

Susan whipped her head around, "Why did you ask that?"

"Just curious," John answered, watching her closely, "What is it? Something to do with your father?" Susan just shook her head. John walked silently beside her. He liked the young woman, and felt some responsibility for her as a younger officer. He offered, "If you ever want to talk, about anything...anything at all. You just have to ask."

"Thank you," said Susan simply. Turning a corner, she pointed towards the tube entrance. "It's just one stop."

The Volcano Cafe was in the main dome, overlooking the Ionian Plains. Eruptions of orange lava spilled out over the yellow cracked ground, making the alien landscape almost autumnal. The tall glass wall was on the far side of the hot sulfur springs that ringed the cafe. Patrons could take the waters either before or after a meal. It was casual in the extreme, with customers in various stages of undress, both in the springs and at the tables. There were several levels, risers and railings separating the springs from the main dining area.

John tried to avoid staring, and kept his gaze on his fellow officer. Susan strode confidently through the crowd, pausing occasionally to greet a friend or co-worker. She stopped at a table near the bar, and held up one finger, then looked over at John. "Sir? Can I get you something?"

"Let's leave off the 'sir'. At least during the course of dinner. And make it a whiskey, straight up." John held out a chair, and Susan took a seat. A waiter came over with a vodka neat and a whiskey and laid them in front of the two officers.

"On your tab, Lt. Ivanova?" asked the waiter, handing them both slim tablet menus.

At her nod in agreement, John broke in, saying to the waiter, "I'm buying tonight. Lieutenant," he added, addressing Ivanova, "You've got tour guide duty; no need to pay for the privilege."

Giovanni waited patiently while the two of them dickered briefly over payment, then began to recite the specials. John listened politely, but most of the dishes were unfamiliar to him.

Susan leaned forward and said, "All the specials are good, or you can trust anything Giovanni recommends."

"Let him pick then. I'm up for anything, as long as it isn't moving and isn't an insect. I've never gotten used to those. " John handed the tablet back to the waiter, and waited patiently while Susan went over the menu with Giovanni. Then the two of them chatted quietly over their drinks, which were followed by another round, and then another with dinner. John switched to water upon the realization that he couldn't keep up with Susan's pace, not and expect to pilot a runner in the morning. She followed his lead soon afterwards, he noticed approvingly, although he found it astonishing how little effect the alcohol seemed to have on her.

As the meal was coming to a close, Giovanni approached them with a large curved glass, filled with a liquid that shaded from a deep orange at the base to bright yellow at the top. A blob of red material floated about halfway up, changing shape and size as the liquid was jostled by movement. He set it on the table in front of Susan, who stared at it suspiciously. "What the hell is this?"

Giovanni shrugged one shoulder expressively, somehow keeping the rest of the drinks on the tray immobile, and answered, "It is an offering from that one, over there." He managed to indicate a tall slim man in a brown suit at a nearby table. Susan's face tightened as she looked in the direction the waiter indicated. John looked as well, noting the black gloves the man wore, identifying him as a member of PsiCorps.

"Friend of yours?" he asked casually. "And what kind of drink is that supposed to be?" he went on, trying to lighten the atmosphere. He noted the thunder in Susan's eyes and her tight grasp on the tableware.

"No friend of mine," replied Susan shortly, running her thumb along the serrations of the knife she held.

"It is a specialty of this place, sir," answered Giovanni, who looked uneasily at Susan. "A Jovian sunspot."

"Well then," said John, trying to keep her attention off the other man, who was making motions as if he was going to come over to talk with them. "You mind if I give it a try, Ivanova?" He picked up the glass and took a gulp, avoiding the red stuff as best as he could. Choking at the bitter taste and on the astringent fumes assaulting his nose, he managed to get out, "Not exactly what I would choose to impress a woman."

"He's not trying to impress me," answered Susan. She was obviously furious. "He's trying to pick me up. And he's been told before, in no uncertain terms, the extent of my complete and total lack of interest."

The man walked over to the table and leaned over towards Susan, talking directly to her over top of John's head. John resisted the impulse to intervene. Ivanova looked as if she could handle herself, and it would be interesting and informative to see what she did. Their table was on the left side of the main dining room, only a few feet from a railing with one of the smaller hot springs below. John had already removed his jacket due to the heat rising from the warm pool.

"Lieutenant Ivanova," purred the slender man, his eyes dark and hooded as he flicked a glance towards John, then returned his gaze to Susan. "I see you found some free time after all." Without looking directly at John, he remarked, "Susan told me she would be working tonight when I asked if I might take her to dinner."

Susan was silently seething, so John, swallowing the obvious answer, tried to smooth things over. "She is working," he said in a deliberately steady voice. "We're just taking a break. Everyone's got to eat," he added in a tone that indicated he thought it was optional in this man's case. When the telepath didn't bother to reply, John added caustically, "Not that it's any of your business. If you'll excuse us, we have work to do?" His pointed stare at the back of the man's head could have drilled a hole clean through it.

"Excuse the interruption, sir," said Susan. "Let's talk privately, Mr. Jeffries," she said, with a gracious smile, standing and moving towards the railing. The man followed her like an eager puppy, only pausing to flash a triumphant look at John. He leaned against the railing, one arm stretched along it and the other possessively reaching for Susan. Without any hesitation at all, she took hold of his outstretched arm, twisted it up against his back and tipped him forward, over the railing, and into the spring below. Then, without a backward glance, she returned to the table while John watched, quickly closing his mouth which had fallen open.

Reminding himself they represented EarthForce, John asked calmly, "Do you think we ought to make sure he's not drowning?" He found himself hoping this wouldn't become a capital-I incident.

"He'll have sent a telepathic SOS all over this room," remarked Susan. "See," she added, "Look."

A group of similarly clad men and women in brown and black suits came hurrying through the tables to assist Susan's admirer. He was pulled out sputtering and holding one arm with the other. "That bitch broke my arm," he declared, eyes spitting poison at Susan. "She can't do that!"

Two of the telepaths broke off from the group assisting Jeffries and approached their table. John rose; he towered over them, a bulwark of authority. "Is there a problem?" he asked, his voice low but stern.

"I wish to place a complaint of assault," said one of the men.

"That's understandable," replied John. Susan remained poker-faced, and seated. "And it's good of you to recognize and condemn the behavior of one of your own." He looked down his nose at the man, impeccably dressed in a black suit-jacket with a tight collar that made his head appear if it were floating. "An unauthorized scan of an EarthForce officer is a serious crime." As the man started to protest, he added mildly, "I believe it's treated as treason if the officer is on active duty."

Without looking at Ivanova, he asked, "You are on duty, Lieutenant?"

"Yes sir," came the crisp reply.

John loomed over the telepath, "Now, if you really want to continue this conversation, we'll head down to headquarters. Your friend's injury can be treated in MedLab there, and we'll file the papers requesting an official investigation."

The man's eyes narrowed. The other started towards John, fists clenched in black leather, but the first man stopped him with a look. "Perhaps it was a misunderstanding after all," he said blandly. "The course of true love, and all that. Two young people over-reacting..." glancing at Susan contemptuously he added, "Jeffries was told the guidelines about fraternization outside the Corps. I will remind him if he has forgotten. It is good of you to offer to help with his injuries, but we take care of our own." He bowed slightly towards John, and the two telepaths rejoined the group now shepherding Jeffries out of the restaurant.

John sat down, and gestured to Giovanni. "I think maybe one more round is in order," he said. As the waiter retreated to the bar to fetch their drinks, he saw Susan looking at him with some apprehension.

"How did you know?" she said abruptly.

"Know what?" asked John. Picking up the glass Giovanni had placed in front of him, he took a large swallow.

"That he tried to scan me," replied Susan. She started to add something, then stopped.

"I didn't know for sure," replied John, finishing his drink. "Just seemed like something a weasel of that sort would try. It was a shot in the dark, and a lucky one at that." He looked sternly at her. "You don't make a habit of flinging unwanted suitors into pools, do you?"

"No," she replied, the color returning to her cheeks. "Not as such."

"Good," replied John. "Now drink up, and let's get out of here. We've got a trap to set."


	5. Stephen Franklin

**Part 5: Stephen Franklin**

"The making of friends, who are real friends, is the best token we have of a man's success in life."_  
- Edward Everett Hale _

"It is most absurdly said, in popular language, of any man, that he is disguised in liquor; for, on the contrary, most men are disguised by sobriety." _~Thomas de Quincy, Confessions of an English Opium-Eater, 1856_

_

* * *

_

President Sheridan took a long hard pull at the double whiskey he'd ordered up. It had been a while since he'd had a drink and it burned all the way down. Still, a man who'd just received the news he had deserved a stiff drink.

"May I join you?"

Dr. Stephen Franklin pulled out a chair and set down his own whiskey glass. "It's been quite a day," he remarked, noting Sheridan's flushed face and the slight tremble in his hand. "She'll be fine, you know." Stephen took a swallow of his own drink, and watched his friend carefully. "But that's not all you're worried about, is it?"

John looked at him warily. "What are you talking about?"

"It's got to be a bit of a shock, finding out you're going to be a father," Stephen smiled. "It was sure a surprise to me! I can't imagine what it's been like for you."

"A little intimidating," John took another drink, and turned the glass around and around in his hand. "I've got a great example to follow, but it's a different world now. Literally a different world, since we'll be bringing him..." At Stephen's questioning look, he stopped, then continued, "him or her, I mean. In any case, we'll be on Minbar when the baby's born. It'll be different." He stopped abruptly, then shifted the topic. "I remember when your dad was here, on the station. Quite an impressive man."

"Hard to live up to those standards, especially when you're not interested in the military life," replied Stephen, with only a hint of bitterness. "He wanted one thing from me and got another."

John nodded, "Classic problem. I guess everyone wants to see something of themselves in their children." He set down the glass and gestured to the waiter for a refill. At Stephen's look of admonition, he snorted, "One more won't kill me, or hurt her. You've got her staying in MedLab for tests until this evening. I think two drinks will have worn off by then."

Stephen laughed, "Was I being that obvious?" He took a sip and rolled the liquor around on his tongue. "You never stop being a doctor, you know."

"I get that." John watched as the waiter topped off his drink. "And you never stop being military either, which is a disadvantage in my new line of work. You know, Stephen, the funny thing is when your father was here...all I could think was how much alike you two were."

"You have got to be kidding me," said Stephen incredulously. He took another drink, a larger one this time. "My father has always made it quite clear I was nothing like him. Even after we reconciled that last time, there's still a lot of tension between us."

"Sometimes it takes an outsider to see these things." John said. He raised his glass to Stephen. "You're both driven, uncompromising, highly intelligent, arrogant sons-of-bitches."

"Gee thanks," said Stephen in a deadpan voice. "I suppose you're like your father too. Ambassador Sheridan has a reputation..."

John looked at him sternly.

"_..._as an excellent diplomat," Stephen concluded hastily.

With a short laugh, John replied "That's the last thing anyone would call me." He shook his head. "I have no idea what I'm doing much of the time. Delenn handles a good deal, but they still look to me. I'm used to being in command, but this is a whole 'nother ball game."

"Sounds like good preparation for parenthood," Stephen mused.

John's face registered a look of complete disbelief. "You can't be serious."

"Actually, I am, at least a little," replied Stephen thoughtfully. "Think about it. Both are jobs you have to learn by doing. Both involve being looked up to, your every word and action watched and analyzed. As well as the responsibility. A parent has complete and total responsibility for another person, of course."

"Thanks," said John dryly. "That makes me feel so much better." He cocked an eye at Stephen. "Not unlike being a doctor, either."

Stephen laughed briefly, "You may be right. At least about the responsibility. I told your predecessor once that all patients want you to play God. They _need_ you to play God. I imagine you get a little of that too."

"I did for a while," said John, draining the glass and setting it down softly on the table. "Not as much any more. Can't say I miss it."

"What do you think it'll be like on Minbar?" asked Stephen curiously. "Do you know how the Minbari feel about you now?"

"It's mixed," said John, toying with a bowl of bar snacks the waiter had just deposited in front of them. He picked up a round dried salt-pea and rolled it around in his palm. "The Religious caste is pretty much behind Delenn now, with a few notable exceptions. The Workers I'm not sure, although they seem pretty practical and a lot more laid-back about things. But the Warriors, well, they might still be a problem."

"That's to be expected, I suppose," said Stephen. "I don't particularly envy you guys, trying to ride herd on both the Alliance and your planetary hosts." He paused as a thought struck him. "You don't think the child will cause problems, do you?"

John's eyes flashed, "No, I don't. I won't allow it." His voice softened into hope, "Maybe he'll be a bridge between our people, like his mother wanted to be."

Stephen held up his glass. "I'll drink to that." They clinked their glasses together and drank to young Sheridan's future. "And you need to wait a bit on that 'he' stuff. Those tests won't be back until tomorrow. It might be a girl."

John grinned. "I have a feeling he's a boy, but frankly I don't care one way or the other."

"Have you thought about how you're going to tell Delenn?" asked Stephen. "It was hard putting her off this afternoon, but you said you wanted to tell her yourself, so I did my best. I'd suggest you not leave it too long for the sake of her anxiety level. Also because I'm pretty sure she'll wangle the information out of one of my nurses before she leaves MedLab."

John raked his hand through his hair. "I'm don't know...I'd like it to be special."

Stephen chuckled. "I've got no advice for you there! It's not something I've ever had to do."

"Maybe take her out somewhere? Or just go home...I don't know what the Minbari customs are." John's face fell. "There's probably a ritual for it."

"Well, you can always look it up," replied Stephen. "But I'd just go on back to MedLab...once you've detoxed," he added sternly. He continued lecturing, "Then sit down beside her, take her hand, tell her how much you love her...and that she's pregnant."

"You make it sound so simple," grumped John.

"It's the most basic thing in the world," replied Stephen. "And I expect you to invite me to Minbar for the delivery!" At John's questioning look, he added quickly, "Not because this is a unique child and a unique birth, though that is certainly true. Because I want to be there; I want to help, any way I can. And you can call me anytime, about anything at all."

"You're still worried, aren't you?" John's lips were set tight.

Stephen sighed, "I told you, it's uncharted territory. Just promise me you'll call."

John extended a hand, and said with some relief, "It's a promise, and thanks. It'll make Delenn feel better, and besides, a man needs his friends at times like this."

"I'll be there," promised Stephen with a smile, and he clasped his friend's hand firmly.


	6. Delenn

**Epilogue: Delenn**

"Think where man's glory most begins and ends,  
And say my glory was I had such friends."  
_- William Yeats _

"One reason I don't drink is that I want to know when I am having a good time."_ ~Lady Astor_

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* * *

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"John?" Delenn said as she re-entered the bedroom in their new quarters in Tuzanoor. "Oh, there you are!"

John was pulling out drawers and sifting through piles of clothing. It had been a strange and stressful evening; all the formality and ritual of a Minbari homecoming, topped off by their unexpected dinner guest. "I have no idea where they've put anything!" he exclaimed. "Have you seen my pajamas?"

Delenn laughed, a bright sparkling sound that he loved to hear. It had been a good idea to come here; she seemed more relaxed and happy than she'd been on the station. There had been a few moments tonight when she'd seem overwhelmed by something, but he wasn't going to pry. She'd tell him when she was ready.

"Pajamas," Delenn repeated with delight. "I do love that word. Is there a singular form? Pajama? Why does the plural 'pajamas' only refer to pants? You would think those would be the pajama, and pajamas would include a shirt!"

"I have shirts. I even have matching shirts," John groused back, "At least I did." Looked sternly at Delenn, he said in mock threat, "If I can't find them, I won't have anything to wear to bed tonight." A sudden intake of breath betrayed her keen interest in the thought. He watched appreciatively as she glided across the room, her sleek black gown moving on her like a second skin.

"That would be a shame," she said, a slight purr sounding in her voice.

She went over to a rectangular seat at the end of the bed, and touched a hidden latch. It opened with the whisk of unseen hinges and there were their nightclothes. John reached past her to pick up a pair of striped pajama bottoms, deftly managing to run his other hand up her leg, linger to cup her bottom and then continue up to rest briefly on the base of her spine. He smiled to himself as he felt her tremble at his touch. Just a few days ago he'd had to explain the concept of 'goose-flesh', and it had left them both wondering why the raised bumps on human skin were called that.

He quickly stripped to get ready for bed, watching her watching him, as her cheeks alternately flushed and paled, and her eyes grew even brighter than before.

Then, after looking as if she were mentally shaking herself, Delenn started speaking again, "I came looking for you because I wanted to ask you something."

"Yes?" John had also retrieved a light cotton shirt from the container, and was holding it in his hand, eying it thoughtfully and wondering whether it was worth the effort to put it on.

"Tonight, at dinner, when Londo asked for alcoholic spirits..."

He glanced at her questioningly, holding up the shirt, but she shook her head, indicating she was serious in her desire to talk. He lowered the garment, and turned his complete and focused attention on her question.

"Were you disappointed...I mean, do you regret giving up that indulgence? It would be possible to maintain a discreet supply, here in our home, if you would like," Delenn went on earnestly. "It is _our_ home, after all."

John let the shirt drop to the floor, and turned towards her, taking her into his arms in one fluid motion. "Not a chance," he replied as she fitted herself tightly against his bare skin. "I have no desire to see the effect alcohol has on any Minbari, given what I've heard. It's a small thing to give up, a luxury that I'll never miss."

Kissed her lightly on the forehead to emphasize the point, he then began a careful exploration of her face with his lips. She arched her back and tilted her head, allowing him access to her neck and sensitive collarbone area. His heartbeat grew louder in his ears, and her rapid breathing blew faintly across his hair, as he added his final word on the subject. "I don't need anything more intoxicating than you."

_The End_


End file.
